Mother

Covered with dirt, you saw the angel.
Tearful, you wrestled your child from a dragon's jaws.
Bloodied with sorrows lodged in your chest like
seven arrows, you stood.

Eyes so pure, glancingtowards death.
Even in blue night with the
heavens at your back, you wept "fiat".

Every step empty til the second coming, you trudge
offering hand to unholy ones who defile
....those lost children.

You catch their cries in moonlight
longing for your lap as did their Lord
on the moonless night he was tortured

.Now a crow or sparrow mourning there,
Only you...
A bent figure, clutching white roses,
the moon at your feet.

Musica

"Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to seperate day from night. Let them mark the fixed time: the days and years and serve as luminaries in the dome of the sky, to shed light upon the earth." - Genesis 14-15

Heark ye! Hear

the music of the celestial spheres twirling.

A crystaline octet

frozen in gases of time

singing eternity.

Pull upon the cosmic purse strings

which dangle in darkness-

star-stidded and flawlessly designed,

like the laws of matter and motion- precise

their inertia, logrhythms and endless figures

danging above us.

It all started in a bang

evolved and flourished to this great tune

perfectly orchestrated- song of life.